


The Don

by Apocalyptic_Freak



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Eddsworld, Mafiafell - Fandom, Underfell - Fandom, Undermafia - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 1920s, 1920s mob, M/M, Multi, mob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apocalyptic_Freak/pseuds/Apocalyptic_Freak
Summary: Lucifer Ridgewell is a mechanic. A mechanic who works for the Don of the Ridgewell-Larsson mob, incidentally. But she's had enough of his bullshit and it's time to make a name for herself.
Relationships: Multiple Relationships - Relationship, Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this trash fic!  
> Jesus I feel this fic is cringe-worthy just for putting CP in here, but it's what came to mind.

I sigh worriedly and risk a glance at my watch, wincing at what it tells me.

Late.

He's never late though. Ever. I try to tell myself that nothin's wrong, that nothin' bad happened, but even when he's shit-faced drunk, Tom ain't never late.

But as soon as my watch hits the five minute mark, a jet black Rolls Royce pulls up, it's tires kicking up gravel and the brakes screeching slightly. I wince and sigh. I'll have to fix that later.

I push my tie up to tighten it and straighten my posture as the driver's side door swings open and the Don's chauffeur steps out, shooting me a nervous glance as he goes to open Tom's door. Before he can though, the door slams open of its own accord, effectively breaking the chauffeur's nose. He stumbles backwards, his blood splattering against and painting the gravel, but I keep my eyes up, because here he is.

The Don, The Boss, Top o' the Heap, the Big Boy. My boss gets out and looks down at the crumpled driver with distaste etched deeply into his features, pulling his cuffs down so that they fit snugly around his wrists again. His gold cufflinks flash in the pale light and the glare catches me in the eye, but I'm careful not to let it look like it has fazed me in the least. It's painful though, and I allow myself a few blinks to clear the spots from my eyes.

Tom steps up to me, his royal blue suit making for something, anything more interesting than Tom's eyes. Or rather, his lack of them. Even though I can't see them, I can feel the black pits bore into me and I swallow thickly as I force myself to look up. A grin spreads across his face as he opens his arms, as if for a hug. I know better.

"Lucifer! Darling! You will have to excuse my tardiness." His smile dips slightly, but then pulls back up, looking even more forced. He snaps his head toward the chauffeur cowering on the ground. His blood drips in a steady stream from the point of his nose and his chin onto the already soaked ground. "Richard couldn't seem to get his  _ head out of his ass. _ " The last part of Tom's statement ends in a hiss and Richard himself flinches. He knows as well as I do that if he lives to see tomorrow, he'll be lucky. I shrug to get Tom's attention.

"It ain't no problem, Boss. I don't got nowhere else to be anyways." A blatant lie, I have many things to be doing at this very moment, but I canceled all of that to meet him. I hope he doesn't notice. He doesn't. Instead he waves a heavily ringed hand dismissively and turns up his nose at my mutilated English.

"Luc, you really have start speaking like a gentleman," he says disdainfully.

I shrug again. "I don't see why, that's the ways everyone else's talkin'."

Tom sighs heavily and I know that if he had eyes, he'd be rolling them. "I don't care how the common folk speak, I care how my sis--mechanic speaks." He leans down to my face level and gives me another fake smile. "No one is going to respect me if I have a hooligan for a employee."

I barely suppress the urge I have to spit directly into his eye socket, but I do. However, I can't help the look of disgust that curls my lip and narrows my eyes. It doesn't go unnoticed.

Tom mimics my looks and straightens up again. "Now, what I came for." He looks at me pointedly. "Where are they?"

I turn on my heel and stalk over to my motorbike, which is propped up against the street light. The kickstand had broken a month ago, but I had been to busy to fix it. I unlatch two cases from the saddlebags and carry them back to Tom, keeping one hooked in my fingers, I rest one of the inside of my forearms and flip it open, revealing the contents to Tom.

He sighs happily and picks up one of the custom pistols I handmade for him (at his request of course). The handle is inlaid with lapis lazuli, a rare and expensive stone I had to smuggle in just for him. In the other case are the twin pistols for his husband, Tord.

He places it delicately back in the case and takes both from me, handing me a thick roll of cash in return. "There you are Lucifer." He starts to walk away, still speaking. "I'll need you to come by and replace my brake pads by the way. The Rolls has been making such a dreadful sound." He opens his car door and flashes another grin at me. "You know how it goes. Nice doing business with you." He ducks inside and Richard the Unfortunate peels himself off the asphalt and stumbles into the car, starting it up and after a few moments driving away.

As the car fades into a black speck in the distance, I can't help but mumble, "Yeah, real pleasure, big brother."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, but the next one is long!  
> (I think-)

The ride home is a bumpy one since Tom had insisted on meeting on a barely paved back road. My motorbike isn't made for such shitty conditions.

When I finally do make it back, I shut the ignition off of my motorbike and walk it around to the backdoor, which I unlock with minimal difficulty. I had long mastered the art of holding a vehicle and unlocking a door at the same time. I carefully walk my bike the rest of the way into my cramped living quarters and rest it against its usual spot on the wall. A black smear had developed from the rubber from the bike's handlebars rubbing against the white paint, but I was long past caring.

As I walk into the living room, I flip on my vinyl player and let it start on the first track while I throw myself on the couch with abandon. Smooth jazz floats through the air and works its magic, instantly unwinding and soothing me after a long day. I now remember the project I had been working on before I was so rudely interrupted by my older brother's summons and lift my head to check on it. It's lying in a shambles spread across my dining room table and I sigh with relief. Just as I had left it.

I rest my head back onto my small couch and kick off my boots, hearing them thunk as they hit the ground. My eyes find the many coffee mugs and disposable paper cups littered across my coffee table and on the floor around the sofa and my one easy chair. I wince slightly at the mess and know what Tom would say if he could see it.

"Tsk tsk tsk, Lucifer, no one is going to respect me if they knew I had such a sloppy employee."

I can envision his expression so clearly that my face contorts into a snarl before I realize he's not actually there. Then I content myself with strangling Thought Tom, something I can only do in my daydreams. I close my eyes with a smirk and without meaning to, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

I awake with a start, frowning when I don't realize what woke me. Then it hits me, a shrill blast of ringing that can only mean one thing, one dreaded horror. The phone.

Shit, I think as I shove myself up off of the sofa and stumble drunkenly to the phone. I snatch it off of its cradle and immediately cease the infernal noise it had been making. A snappy sounding "What?" jumps from my lips before I realize that anyone could be calling me, even the Boss. And just like that, it is.

A low chuckle sounds from the other end of the line and my blood runs cold. The plastic in my hand, warmed by my body temperature, now feels icy. A weak laugh slips from my throat as I hastily straighten the tie I had idiotically slept in before realizing that no one could see me. "H-hey Boss--"

"Oh calm down Lucifer." An amused sounding voice echoes in my earpiece and my knees buckle with relief.

"Jesus ya scared me to death there, Tord. I thoughts ya was the Boss..."

"I can tell. No, luckily for you, it's just me." His heavily accented voice starts to fade towards the end and I smack my receiver against the wall and the sound comes back full force.

"You know, for a mechanic, you seem to have an awful lot of broken things in your house." Tord says with a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut ya trap, Norrie."

The Norwegian lets out a hearty laugh that vibrates through the receiver and into my bones. "You never fail to make me laugh Lucifer." He sighs heavily. "Anyways, Thomas says that you promised to come and fix his brake pads first thing in the morning?" I can hear the smile in his voice as he says this.

I scoff. "Well you can tell brotha dearest that I said no such thing an' he can take that ta tha bank."

"Alright. What kind of wood do you want for your coffin?"

I start to say something, but realize that he's right. "Shit... yeah, fine. I'll be ova there in a litta bit..."

"You had better, he's getting impatient."

I grumble under my breath and finally get out a decent, "Fine," and hang up.

I sink down to the floor in defeat.

"Taday is gonna be one helluva day..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did make Tom a violent asshole in this fic, but it makes sense to the time period and his status in society.
> 
> (What the fuck do you put in the notes?)


	3. Chapter Three

Silence is the only sound I have to listen to as I work on Tom's car. As punishment for being "late", he wouldn't allow me to move any of his probably twenty vinyl players. Stupid motherfucker, wish you would die. So I work in his garage with only my grumbles and the sounds of metal clanging and squeaking to make music.

After a while and lots of muffled curses, I hear the neat clicking of shoes on the concrete of the garage. The rolling board I'm laying on is pulled out from under the car and I find myself face-to-face with my brother's husband. Tord grins at me and I can't help but smile back. He holds out a hand and I take it. The cool metal of his right arm sends a shiver down my spine, but I hide it well. He hands me a bottle of Cola and rests against my tool chest. "Are you doing okay out here?"

I scoff and take a sip of the Cola. "I'd be doin' better if I 'ad known I needed to be here."

Tord shrugs, his horned hair bobbing slightly with the motion. "What Tom wants, Tom gets. I can't help that." He pulls out a cigar and glances up at me. "Do you mind if I...?"

I only shake my head since my mouth is full of Cola. I swallow the lot with one gulp, which results in a coughing fit. When I finally blink the tears out of my eyes and look up, Tord is already smoking and chuckling to himself. "You're going to kill yourself one of these days, Lucifer."

"Good!" I choke out and cough once more, feeling the burn of the carbonated drink at the back of my throat.

Tord laughs. "Not quite."

"At least I'm killin' myself faster than you are wit' those cigars."

"But I get to live longer."

"...touche."

"And as I recall, don't you smoke too?"

I feel my face heat up slightly as I answer, "Ssh, we don't say nothin' 'bout that."

Tord snorts, exhaling a puff of smoke out of his nostrils. The smell floats through the garage, almost overpowering the lingering scent of gasoline, oil, and metal that is embedded into the very being of the room. Almost, but not quite.

Watching him smoke sends me itching for a cigarette of my own. My fingers flit around my mouth as I fish in the back pockets of my ratty beige pants and pull out a pack. I flip it open and am disappointed to see I only have two cigarettes left. I sigh and take one out, closing the box. The edges of the paper pack haven't even begun to wear yet. I stick one end in my mouth and cup the other end with my left hand. I then snap the fingers of my right and watch as bright blue flames crackle to life on my index fingertip. I press it against the cigarette end and inhale deeply as it lights.

The smoke filters into my lungs and I exhale gratefully, feeling the nicotine course through my bloodstream and satisfying my hunger for a smoke. I lean delicately against the side of the Rolls Royce and smoke the rest of my cigarette with Tord in silence.

After his cigar had disappeared into nothing but ashes, Tord lifts himself from his seat and flicks the butt into a nearby ashtray. "Well, I'll leave you to it." And with that, he's gone.

I wave a belated goodbye and extinguish my cigarette in the ashtray, pushing my sleeves back up. Time to get back to work.

~~~

The second time I'm interrupted, it's by the man himself.

Tom pulls my rolling board out with an anger and I can't help but wonder what the hell I've done wrong now.

Instead, he's just being his impatient and obnoxious self. "Are you done yet?"

I cross my grease-stained arms and glare up at him. "Whaddoes it look like?"

He growls deep in his throat. "It looks like you're being a lazy slob."

I roll my eyes and push myself back under the car. Truth is, I just got done. But I now I figure, what the hell? Why not piss off big bro for a bit?

I bang around with a wrench for a bit, making it seem like I'm doing something productive until he leaves.

Tom taps his foot for a while, sighing and grumbling about how lazy I am, then he walks off and I hear the resounding slam of the garage door. I roll out from beneath the Rolls and give my boss the finger as I stand up, my knees popping and groaning from the strain. "Ah," I groan as I bend backwards, trying to pop my back.

I straighten up and wipe my hands on my pants, making my way to the door. As I open it and walk into the spacious mess room, the sound of muffled voices finds me. I don't really think about it, assuming it's my brother and Tord, but as I walk into the living room, I see that it's anything but.

The room is filled with higher-ups. At least, that's what I assume they are, judging by their expensive suits and uptight attitudes. They don't seem to notice me, so I back out of the room and back into the hall. I almost make it out unnoticed.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitta forewarning, the next chapter does have violence between siblings, and there are high threats and shit like that.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AHEAD!  
> (Kinda-ish)

_Shit,_ I think as one of the men in the room turns, catching my eye. Though, I say man.

Man isn't quite the right word for him, considering the only humanoid thing about him is his skeleton.

And that's all he is. A skeleton.

Red pinpricks of light floating in his eye sockets bore into me and I turn to leave, quickly. But then he's there, in front of me. He chuckles, pulling a cigar out of his mouth and blowing smoke onto my face. How? I have no idea.

"Now then," his deep voice reverberates through me and I shiver. "Just where da yous thinks youses going?"

I hear my brother's voice from behind me. "Sans? What are you doing?"

The skeleton--Sans, I suppose--smirks at me and lays a harsh hand on my shoulder, turning me around and pushing me back into the living room. _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ runs through my mind and he steers me towards the middle of the room.

"Saw this little one tryna sneak outsa here. So," he leans down to face level and the stench of cigars grows. "Wheres ya goin', sweetheart?"

I try to answer, but I feel a heavy weight on my chest, like someone is reaching inside and squeezing my heart. All that comes out is a strangled gasp.

Then I hear a familiar sigh from behind me and the pressure lessens. "Sans," my brother says quietly. "Let her go."

_Shit..._ I think again, knowing the tone of his voice. He's angry. He's beyond angry. I turn around, shaking. "H-hey bos-"

Before I know it, his cane has struck me across the face and I'm staggering backwards. I feel blood trickling through my fingers as I reflexively hold my hands to my face. Tom is yelling, but my head is spinning too fast for me to understand anything he's saying. Then it all jolts back into focus.

"-upid bitch!" He is screaming. I can feel the skeleton behind me place a tentative hand on my upper arm. "Ay, Tom," he starts.

"What?!" Tom explodes. I look up, dazed and let one hand fall to my side as the other clutches my heavily bleeding cheek. "I've told you time and time again to leave through the back door when I have company!" I see him lift his cane to hit me again, but as he swings it toward my face, I reach out a bloodstained hand and finally let my power course through it. His eyesockets widen as he realizes what I'm about to do as his cane hits my palm, immediately disintegrating.

I look up at him and feel the cut on my lip stretch painfully as I smile. "And I've told you not to hit me." With that, I turn around and walk back through the doorway I came from in the first place.

As soon as I know they can't see me, I cover my mouth with a hand and run back to the garage and sit down hard against the side of the Rolls Royce. Only then do I allow the sobs to rack my body, painful and loud. The last thing I expect to feel is a hand on the top of my head, stroking my hair. Then someone sits beside me and I glance their way.

It's Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of feel like it was stupid to give Lucifer powers, but I totally stan Monster!Tom and I thought it would be weird if one twin had an ability and the other didn't.


	5. Chapter Five

I stay still for a moment, then hurriedly scrub the tears off of my face with the back of my hand. "Th-tha hell do ya wan'?" I manage to stutter out.

The big skeleton shrugs, trying to stay nonchalant. "Just though' I'd comin' see if yous was okay."

"Horse-shit," I say, my words thick and slurred by the blood in my mouth.

Sans scoffs, but the lights in his eyesockets dim slightly as he turns to look at me. "A'ight, fine. I fel' guilty 'bout bringin' yous in fronta tha Don. Bu' yeah, ya good, kid?"

My long fingers flit delicately over the cut across my cheek and I shake my head. "I'll b' fine," I mumble, though I know it will take a very long and expensive time to heal whatever damage Tom had done. In my head, my older brother feels bad about what he has done, but I know that in reality if I show my face here again I'll get a new cane down my throat.

Sans sighs, his bony digits lightly grasping my jaw so that I look at him. "Shit kid, tha's pre'y bad. Knock a few teeth loose?"

I nod, my tongue flicking over a wobbly molar.

The big monster winces, empathy flashing over his features. "Gimme a sec," he says, his hand starting to glow.

My eyes widen and I start to jerk away, but then I feel my tooth snap back into place and the pain in my jaw lessens. He pulls his hand away and I rub my jaw, muttering a confused thanks.

"My bro's dones it ta me plenny o' times," Sans says. I start to raise an eyebrow, but then think back to the crowd. A much taller skeleton had been standing beside Sans. His brother, I suppose.

We sit in silence until the door to the garage bangs open and Tord is there, his eyes wild with fear and worry. "Luc," he says, breathless. "You have to go, now."

I stand unsteadily, but I can feel Sans stand and grip my upper arm. "I can't drive," I say thickly.

Tord nods in understanding, glancing over his shoulder. "I'll hide your bike, just get out of here!"

Sans tightens his grip, saying: "I've got her." Then my world spins and we're standing at the entrance to my brother's manor.

"Tha hell...?" I halfway ask.

"I'll expl'n la'er," Sans offers. "Bu' fa now, I needs yous ta tell me wheres yous live."

I quickly recite my address to him and in another whirl, we're in my trashed living room. A wave of nausea overcomes me and I bend over, whining as I retch. Luckily, I hadn't eaten anything at all today.

"Sorry," Sans rubs my back apologetically. "Is suppose I shoulda wa'ned yas fi'st, ey?"

I nod mutely, my thoughts still chasing each other in circles around my headspace. "Are, are you..." I start to ask, but I choke on my words.

"I'll be fine," Sans assures me, knowing what I meant. He looks around, chuckling softly. "Man, yous house's wo'se'n m'room."

I groan and straighten up, giving his shoulder a halfhearted shove. "Shaddap," I say, starting to pick up the cups littering the floor and table.

Sans collapses onto my couch, the frame groaning under his considerable bulk. He flicks a hand and my vinyl record starts to spin, the needle dropping onto the first track. He smirks at the music, his skull tilting back and his many-ringed fingers tapping along to the beat on his knees.

As I toss the cups in the trash, someone starts to bang on the front door.

Both Sans and I tense up, him rising from the couch.

I edge towards the door, cautiously skirting my coffee table and flicking the curtains aside to see who's out there. Then a high-ish pitched voice bellows, "SANS, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE."

Sans himself sighs in relief and sits back down, motioning for me to open the door. When I do, there is a tall skeleton standing outside. And when I say tall, I mean tall. He scoffs at me and ducks through the door frame, walking my motorbike inside and keeping up a steady monologue the entire time.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK TO FIND YOU? TOO LONG, SANS. MOST OF THE TIME I COULD JUST TRACE YOUR MAGIC, BUT YOU TELEPORTED TWICE, YOU DUMBASS-"

I clear my throat, hesitantly interrupting the large monster. "Who a' ya, ag'n?"

The skeleton looks down at me, his glare degrading and mean. "WHY, HUMAN, I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!" He rolls the r in his name for a flourish.

"Ah," I say and take my bike from him, walking it to the kitchen.

"OH YES," Papyrus starts again. "I CAME HERE FROM THE RIDGEWELL MANOR, THE HORNED HUMAN BID ME GIVE THAT TO YOU."

I nod my thanks and watch as Sans heaves himself from my sofa. "Welp, i's been fun, kiddo." He reaches around and musses my short hair, smirking. "'Til nex' time," he says, taking his brother's arm. They disappear in a puff of red smoke.

I wave goodbye to the open air before collapsing onto my now vacant sofa, my consciousness leaving me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I DID MAKE SANS A CHILL MOTHERFUCKER.

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes I do ship TomTord, heck off)


End file.
